


Four Nights in Arizona

by anr



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-14
Updated: 2009-04-14
Packaged: 2017-11-05 15:14:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/407914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anr/pseuds/anr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of these days, you think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Nights in Arizona

**Author's Note:**

> Post- _Turn And Face The Strange_ (3x22)
> 
> "Spark" (Tori Amos)

_how many fates turn around in the overtime?_

  


* * *

  


Claire brings you a drink of water sometime after midnight, torchlight illuminating the dark smudges of dirt on her jaw.

"Don't forget to rest too," she says quietly, watching you drink. "Everyone else has."

You hand her the empty bottle and wipe the back of your hand across your mouth. "Even you?"

She shrugs.

  


* * *

  


You last another grave before relinquishing your shovel in the morning. Mohinder has just arrived, the back seat of his rental piled high with archive boxes, and you're both smiling as he walks over, though probably not for the same reason.

"It's good to see you again, Peter," he says, extending his hand in greeting.

You hand him the shovel. "Nice clothes." Clean and neat and not at all suitable for grave digging; as you walk away, it's only your exhaustion that prevents you from laughing.

He calls out after you. "Thanks?"

Crawling into the back of your SUV, you smush your jacket into something that vaguely resembles a pillow and close your eyes. You've been awake close to forty hours now, the last seventeen of which involving manual labour.

You're asleep almost instantly.

  


* * *

  


You wake briefly to voices outside the car -- Bennet and your mother -- and hear words like, _Suresh_ and _1961_ and _the greater good_ , but it's too soon, too much, and you're pretty sure you're still asleep. Rolling over, you come up against another body, small and slight, strands of hair brushing your nose, and you think, _Claire_ , but your eyes are closed and you can't find the energy to open them to be sure.

You sleep again.

  


* * *

  


There's food when you finally emerge, and coffee, and you take a helping of both before walking over to where Claire's sitting against a rusted out Ford. She looks rumpled and sleepy in the firelight, like she hasn't been awake long, and you sink down beside her with a groan.

"Remind me never to go camping again after this," you say, holding onto your coffee like it's a lifeline.

She leans against your shoulder, yawning. "Mmm, ditto."

Your mother is sitting beside a grave, Bennet's head just visible as he shovels dirt. A few metres away, Mohinder and Nathan are moving the desiccated remains of a water tank.

"I miss anything?"

She shrugs. "Dunno. Been asleep." She points her coffee cup towards the others. "Angela says we need to keep digging."

"Great."

"Yeah."

Your sandwiches are gone within what feels like seconds, the last of your coffee too. Getting to your feet, you hold out your hand.

"Back to work?" It's close to nine o'clock at night, your body clock out of whack thanks to ten plus hours of sleep, but Claire gives you a small smile, placing her hand in yours.

"Hi-ho, hi-ho."

  


* * *

  


You've been using Claire's power since you both arrived -- had known as soon as your mother pulled out the hardware that your shoulder was not going to last -- but you switch to Mohinder's now.

There's no effort required using super-strength -- you can shovel for hours without ever feeling your muscles strain -- but neither, you eventually realise, is there any protection from dehydration or calluses or sunburn. The skin on your hands blisters and tears as you dig, the morning sun bearing down with an intensity you're not expecting.

You push through it.

  


* * *

  


Claire's already sitting in the back of your SUV when you call it quits for the day -- morning, afternoon, whatever -- eyes closed and a half-drunk water bottle falling from her fingertips. Pushing yourself up beside her, you snag the bottle, startling her.

"Hey," she says, eyes already drifting shut again.

"Hey." You drain the bottle before falling back, your head thudding on the floor of the car. "Ow."

She snorts, crawling in after you. "You look like crap."

"Thanks."

"Take my power."

You shake your head. "I'm good."

"You're sunburnt to all fuck, Peter, and I'd bet anything your hands are killing you. Take it."

"I'm fine."

"Take it."

"No."

With a growl, she flops her arm onto your chest, fingers dragging up to press against the side of your throat. "Take it."

You shove her arm away. "No -- why are you even in this car anyway? Why aren't you sleeping in your dad's rental?"

She scoffs. "And wake up a hundred miles from everyone else, supposedly for my own good? Yeah, right." She returns her arm to your chest, fingers catching the neckline of your t-shirt and knuckles digging into the hollow above your collarbone. "Take my damn power, Peter, before you keep us both fucking awake all afternoon tossing and turning."

" _Fine_." Focusing on her touch, you let her in, feeling her power smooth and repair the ripped skin on your hands, the red ache on your face and neck. Reluctantly, you say, "thanks."

No response; she's already asleep.

  


* * *

  


You shift onto your side at one point, her arm sliding off your chest and into the space between you both, her body already turned towards yours.

Your fingers very loosely curve around hers.

  


* * *

  


Nathan keeps his distance from you, shovelling and sleeping on opposite shifts from you, and you make no effort to breach those walls. Your mother sits next to you occasionally, watching you uncover her secrets, but more often than not she's with Bennet. Mohinder helps with the shovelling each morning, switching to his father's papers in the afternoons, leaving Claire as your most frequent companion, her chosen graves and sleeping pattern generally in line with yours.

"Who do you think it is we're unburying?"

You shrug, dropping your shovel briefly to strip off your outer-shirt. The midnight air is cool but your constant movement is more than enough to raise your body temp. In the next grave, Claire leans against her shovel while she waits for your answer. "I'm trying not to think about it," you say eventually.

"But aren't you curious?"

"Sure," you pick up your shovel. "Why -- who do you think it is?"

"Worst case?" You nod. "It's us, you and me and everyone else, and we're all just deadmen walking straight into a time travelling accident forty years ago."

You blink. "That's -- that's pretty farfetched, Claire."

She shrugs and starts digging again. "As farfetched as a flying man? A super-strength man or woman? People who can freeze time, mimic powers, paint the future, talk to electronics, read minds, flick lightning balls off their fingertips, or run faster than the wind? "

You're smiling as she runs through her list. "Don't forget regeneration," you offer, hefting your shovel.

"Or regeneration," she repeats dutifully. "And that's not even touching the most important thing of all."

"Oh, yeah? What's that?"

Her smile is grim. "This is your _mother_ we're talking about."

Your own smile fades; you can't argue that one.

  


* * *

  


You stick with her power and eventually find yourself enjoying the strain in your muscles, the way your whole body aches from the effort of shovelling unending mounds of dirt and dust and stone. On the outside you're whole and unmarked; on the inside, you're _burning_.

You haven't felt this alive in months.

  


* * *

  


Matt and Hiro and Ando arrive just as you're finishing your fourth -- fifth? you've lost count -- grave, and you hand over your shovel to a barely awake Nathan as you move on to greet them.

"A baby?" you manage, when they empty out of the car, honestly surprised for the first time in days, " _seriously_?"

Matt grins. "Shocked the hell out of me too," he says, shaking your hand. "Meet Matt, my son."

"Baby Touch and Go," adds Hiro, coming up beside him. "Hello, Peter Petrelli."

"Hello Hiro, Ando," you nod. "Bennet, Nathan and Mohinder are over there." You point to the western side of the graves. "Not sure where my Mom is."

Matt's head is cocked to one side, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Claire's here too?"

You nod. "Probably asleep by now -- we've been digging since late in the night. Why?"

Shaking his head, Matt smiles. "No reason. Now," he shifts the baby in his arms. "I don't suppose you have a change room around here somewhere?"

Laughing, you leave them to settle in.

  


* * *

  


In the car, Claire sleeps curled against your back, her forehead pressed between your shoulder blades and her legs bent up behind yours. Her fists are in the small of your back, knuckles occasionally brushing against your spine.

You sleep restlessly, stirring awake too often to the sound of voices outside, the distant echo of thunder, the feel Claire's breath on your back.

When you finally give up, there's a glimmer of sunset on the horizon still, a pink and purple line separating the sky and land. Four hours and change is not nearly enough sleep, and you head straight for the coffee supplies, refusing to acknowledge Matt until you're at least half a cup in.

"Sweet dreams?" he asks casually.

You grunt, dropping down beside him. "You tell me."

He chuckles, shaking his head. "Oh, I don't really think you want to know." He nods towards where your mother and Bennet have set up a temporary office of sorts in Mohinder's rental. "Your mom's being difficult again, shouting me out every time I get close."

Big surprise there. "What about Nathan?"

"Fear, thirst, hunger, exhaustion, and a constant stream of 'what went wrong'."

"What, no remorse?" your sarcasm towards him feels almost natural now, second nature -- you're not sure how you feel about that.

"A little relieved, mostly disappointed," Matt elbows you in the side, "you, not Nathan."

"Screw you."

He laughs. "Bennet's worried about Sylar -- he's a shapeshifter now, by the way -- and his failing marriage. It's the latter that's causing him to keep his distance from Claire -- he doesn't want to admit to her that he's screwed up."

This _does_ surprise you -- you'd assumed Claire had been spending time with her father when the two of you weren't off digging or sleeping together.

Matt coughs. " _Anyway_ , Bennet's just as curious as the rest of us as to what Angela's going to reveal."

Getting to your feet, you drain the last of your coffee. "Guess I better get digging then."

  


* * *

  


You and Nathan are uncovering graves twenty-four and twenty-five when your mother finally tells you stop.

Leaning against your shovel, you watch her climb into Nathan's grave and kneel down, fingers brushing away dirt and stone from the half-revealed skeleton.

"Alright, Mom," says Nathan, "we did as you asked. You wanna explain now why --"

"Get some sleep." As always, her voice cuts across easily. "The morning will bring you your answers soon enough."

You swear. "Mom, come on --"

"Good _night_ , Peter. Nathan." She doesn't even look at you or your brother.

Swearing again, you throw down your shovel and push yourself up and out of the grave.

One of these days, you think, heading towards the fire. It's a somewhat tantalising thought.

  


* * *

  


Matt's feeding the baby, Hiro and Ando quietly talking in Japanese beside him. As you pass them, you rest your hand briefly on Matt's shoulder, absorbing his power.

"I wouldn't --" he starts.

You ignore him and head into the darkness.

  


* * *

  


It's easy enough to circle around the perimeter, the telepathy keeping you out of everyone else's hearing. Claire's awake now, at the fire and wondering where you are. Mohinder's buried in his father's papers, theories endlessly churning.

You can hear Nathan heading over to your SUV, ready to settle in for the next few hours, while Bennet's already asleep in his own rental.

Your mother's still sitting beside Nathan's last grave, her thoughts faint but repetitive: the rosary.

Dropping down behind a rocky outcrop, you wait.

  


* * *

  


The storm you'd heard approaching earlier gets closer, closer, until it feels like it's right above you, thunder reverberating the ground and rocks around you, lightning splitting the sky. You're not visible from the camp, the outcrop between you and them, but the bright shards of light make you feel exposed nonetheless.

Breathing out, you refocus on your mother's thoughts, determined to find an answer. She can't shield forever and sooner or later, you think, you _will_ see her secrets.

_Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death, amen._

_Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death, amen._

_Holy Mary, mother of --_

  


* * *

  


When you come back to yourself, your hands are filthy, fingernails broken, and the dirt around you is patterned with shapes and caricatures. You can see yourself on the ground, can see --

The storm breaks, rain smearing the smooth lines of what will -- _could_ \-- be.

In your head, your mother's voice still, _pray for us sinners, now and --_

Matt was right. You shouldn't have.

  


* * *

  


You're not sure how long you stay out there, watching the rain wash away your future, but the storm's easing by the time you return. Claire's the first person you see when you get close to the camp, standing in the fading rain with her arms outstretched and face tipped up to the sky, water running down her face and neck.

Stopping a few steps away, you watch her dig her hands into her hair, fingers trying to separate the strands.

She catches sight of you watching, and smiles. "Awesome timing, no?" She shakes her head, wet hair flicking around her shoulders. "I was beginning to think I'd never feel clean again."

There's rain on her eyelashes, her lips, and suddenly you're remembering part your drawing, another thunderstorm, another time, another place --

"Peter?" _Peter!_ "Are you okay?" _He looks -- no, maybe, not really, I wonder --_

With a gasp you pull yourself into the present and away from her thoughts, taking a step back for good measure. "I'm fine," you manage. "Fine." You gesture towards where the others have strung up tarps between the cars. "I'm gonna --" You're already walking away.

Frowning, she lets you go.

  


* * *

  


You find Hiro and take his power, freezing time.

You just need a moment, you think, a moment to work through and rationalise what you drew, saw.

You unfreeze when you realise you're justifying instead.

  


* * *

  


Dawn finds you sitting beside Matt, his attention almost wholly devoted to the baby in his arms. You're smiling as you watch him coo and babble in baby-talk, the utter randomness of this moment a refreshing change from the images now in your head.

"It doesn't have to happen that way, you know," he says conversationally, "you and I know better than anyone how transitory the future can be. One moment here, the next..." He shrugs. "You can change it."

Claire walks over with a coffee in each hand and sits down beside you, handing you one of the cups.

 _But what if I don't want to?_ You didn't _just_ see her in the dirt, after all. You saw other things -- people, places -- too. Out loud, you say, "I know."

On the other side of the fire, your mom approaches and takes a seat next to Nathan, patting his hand very briefly before looking around, clearing her throat. "What happened here," she starts, "happened for a reason --"

Claire leans against you, her hair slipping over your shoulder, your free hand sliding dangerously close to hers. You don't pull away.

You know. 

  


* * *

The End

**Author's Note:**

> ORIGINAL URL: <http://anr.livejournal.com/340978.html>


End file.
